A/N: There's a reference to my one shot story "Tell Me a Story" here, but you don't have to have read it to understand. It helps, though.
There are also some words in the Malay language, which I hope are correct as I depended on someone else to translate. They are end noted.
The sun shone through the big window of the Tucker guest house, bathing the oversized four poster bed with light. Trip opened his eyes and found himself alone under the sumptuous coverlet, and he heard noises coming from the small kitchen that was part of the main room.
Planetside sensations seemed to surround him. He inhaled deeply to better enjoy the scent of fresh linen mixed with the crisp forest air that breezed through the window screens. He could hear insects chirping and buzzing, birds singing and even the wind blowing through the tops of the trees. Morning was the best time to enjoy Mississippi, before the heat of the day became oppressive and the climate controls had to be activated.
He sat up as a still pajama-clad T'Pol entered to room, carrying a mug of coffee for him and a mug of tea for herself. She handed him his coffee, and then climbed in bed next to him.
"Did you enjoy the party?" he asked, teasingly.
"It was agreeable to meet your family," she said, "and to fulfill my social obligations to them."
"Uncle Troy was quite taken with you," replied Trip. "Says he wants to visit Vulcan now, since the women are so pretty."
T'Pol glanced at Trip, not even bothering to raise her eyebrow. He sensed in her a combination of amusement and annoyance.
"I'm not sure that Troy would fit in among my people," she replied, with customary Vulcan understatement.
Uncle Troy had been very helpful to her, however. She had seemed especially pleased to hear how Troy had read the novel Tom Sawyer to young Trip several times. Troy had also told her that he had told young Trip that Mr. Twain had based the story on their Missouri forefather.
"Was there a basis for that claim in fact?" T'Pol had asked Troy, sincerely.
"Let's just say when the family legend becomes the truth, embrace the legend. It's always more interesting," Troy had responded with a laugh.
Tall tales and hyperbole were part of the Tucker family tradition, and Trip was glad that T'Pol had gotten a good dose of that at the party and had clearly been charmed as opposed to horrified.
"Your mother is cooking a large midmorning meal for us," said T'Pol, "She wishes us to come to the main house at 1100 hours."
"She does a great brunch," said Trip, yawning.
T'Pol sipped on her tea.
"I am glad of not eating this morning, considering the unnatural amount of food I consumed last night."
"Well, it was a party," he said smiling and putting his coffee on the nightstand and running his hand up her leg. "It's early yet. What shall we ever do with our time until brunch?"
Trip leaned over and began to plant soft kisses on her neck.
"You haven't brushed your teeth, husband," she said, "Kissing you on the mouth is more pleasant when you have."
He grinned, hopped up and headed toward the bathroom while she continued to sip on her tea. When he emerged from the bathroom, he had not only brushed his teeth but removed all his sleeping clothes. Naked and fully aroused by the sight of her against the white sheets, he strode over and climbed up onto the bed. She put her mug on the nightstand, never taking her eyes off him.
"Now will you kiss me?" he asked playfully.
"Where would you like me to kiss you, husband? It seems you've given me many options."
Trip smiled and closed his eyes.
"Why don't you surprise me?"
She paused for a moment. Rather than begin at the two most obvious places, she instead leaned over and kissed the rounded-top of his ear before gently blowing into it. He was far more captivated by the points of her ears, but she nevertheless adored the roundness of his and had said so many times. She proceeded to lick the round part the way he had so often done with her pointed ears.
"Mmmmm…" he responded.
After she had finished that leisurely exploration, she straddled him and sat on his taut stomach so she could give the other ear the same treatment. Not one to sit idle, Trip unbuttoned her top and pushed it off of her.
When she had finished with the second ear, she kissed the tip of his nose before covering his mouth with her own. Mouth open, it was as if she was tasting the mint of his breath as their tongues swirled around each other. His hands grabbed at her rear end through the silk of her pajama bottoms.
She was the one who broke the kiss, but only to continue planting kisses down his neck and chest. She looked up at him and he smiled at her, and she wiggled further down his body. She first kissed the top of his shaft, sending a jolt through his whole body with her warm lips. As she swirled her tongue around the tip, he closed his eyes and his breathing quickened. She slowly took the whole thing in her mouth, applying just the right amount of pressure as she moved up and down. He ached with pleasure.
Rarely did he let her finish him this way. It wasn't fair to her that he have all the fun, but he sensed she intended to make use of the hours they had to kill. When he whispered that he was close, she continued on, using one hand to help her along with her task and slipping the other hand into his. He couldn't fight it, so he just let the sensations from her mouth and tongue overwhelm his body and his mind.
"Oh, honey," he whispered.
She sped up her movements, and with a shiver and jerk he spilled into her mouth as bliss overtook him. Still, he watched her as she sat up and quickly grabbed a tissue off the nightstand and discreetly spit into it. Ever the vegan, he thought, amused. He was still caught up in his euphoria, but managed to lovingly brush her hair from her face as she laid her head on his chest and waited for him to recover.
"That was…amazing. You are…amazing," he whispered.
She sighed contently, enjoying what he was feeling through their linked minds.
"But be warned," he said mischievously, "I'm going to have to come up with some creative way to thank you. Just give me a minute or so-"
In the shadowy light of his rooms on Jupiter Station, Malcolm had Hoshi on her knees, face pressed face down on his bed. They were both naked, and he was inside her, whispering in her ear. He spoke words in Malay, surprising her that he knew the language which so few people spoke.
"Aku cinta kamu," he said. (1)
She tried to turn and look at him, to see if he knew what he had just said, but he wouldn't let her. He gently turned her head back and whispered in her ear.
"Aku tahu apa yang kukatakan." (2)
She closed her eyes and let go of everything, just allowing herself to feel him inside her and his fingers working at her. It wasn't long before she was overwhelmed with pleasure, nearly collapsing. He soon followed her, and then gently turned her over and took her into his arms.
She opened her mouth as if to speak, but he hushed her.
"Don't say it back," he said, "I don't want you to say it because I did. I want you to say it because you mean it."
She titled her head a little, as if thinking about this.
"I didn't know you spoke Malay."
"You know I grew up partially in Malaysia. I picked up a few things from—from the servants and the street vendors," he said, slightly embarrassed.
The world had supposedly moved beyond such class distinctions, but most upper class Malaysians spoke perfect English and wouldn't have bothered speaking the native tongue to a British boy.
"I'm impressed," she said, "You've got an English accent for sure, but it's very slight."
"I've been working on Andorian. I'll try that out on you someday, too."
"I'd like that," she said as she settled into his arms, "I'm glad things are better between us. I'm glad."
She spoke the truth. In past hours, the sadness that had wrapped around her like a blanket since the interrogation had lifted. She felt safe. If she began to remember what she had seen Malcolm doing that day, she pushed it from her mind. He was doing his job, and there had been not hint that he had gotten any pleasure from what he had done. That made him very different from the Xindi who had hurt her.
"I'm glad, too," he said, playing with her hair, "Are you okay? Really okay? Not just with us, but with everything?"
She sighed.
"With us, I'm okay. I'll get back to you on everything."
Elaine Tucker had wanted some time alone with her daughter-in-law. So, after brunch, she had insisted that her husband show their son the house's new atmospheric system, which not only kept the house at a decent temperature but also dealt with the twin demons of the Mississippi air, humidity and pollen.
T'Pol helped her put all the dishes in the dishwasher, and even carefully cleaned a few of the bone china pieces that were to fragile for the machine.
"That was my great-great-great-great grandmother's," said Elaine taking a small sugar bowl from T'Pol, "She bought it in Ireland on her honeymoon. Her parents had come from Ireland originally. Funny that after a couple of centuries, my son returned there."
T'Pol stared at the little dish, amazed that it had survived so many years of use.
"I am looking forward to meeting your other son," said T'Pol.
"You'll like him," said Elaine, "and he'll adore you. I'm glad you'll get to meet that branch of the family before you return to space."
Elaine put the sugar dish away in a cabinet, and then she opened a drawer and pulled out a square box.
"You know…since Bert is married to a man…and we lost our daughter, you're pretty much my only daughter…"
Elaine opened the box and pulled out a jeweled butterfly clip.
"My mother gave me this when I married Charlie. She got it from her mother, and honestly, I don't know how far it back it goes beyond that. I was going to give this to Lizzie when she got married, but you know what happened. I think she'd want you to have it since well- "
Elaine approached T'Pol from the back and gathered her hair into a twist and clipped it with the butterfly.
"There, it looks very pretty on you. Very pretty."
T'Pol glanced at herself in a mirror that was on the far wall. She turned to Elaine.
"I thank you, Ms. Tucker. I am honored."
"Would it be so very un-Vulcan if you called me Elaine?" asked Elaine.
Bert's husband called her Mom, but she thought that might be pushing it.
"I am honored, Elaine."
"C'mon," she said, "Let's go find the boys before they decide to dismantle the climate system for this house."
Enme stared up and the plain ceiling of his cabin/prison. His sister wouldn't be back from the main planet for weeks, and Hoshi had been banned from seeing him.
Perhaps, he thought, Lt. Commander Reed is simply trying to bore me to death.
Death. That was something he had contemplated quite a bit lately. He should have found away to die by now, given his situation. That was what was expected of a person in his position. Romulans simply did not endure the indignity of being a prisoner.
Unfortunately for Enme, he was rather attached to his own existence. Furthermore, he actually sort of liked these humans that were holding him. He also found he enjoyed their food and drink, and he was even starting to pick up their language thanks to his conversations with Hoshi.
But, he knew he was only putting off the inevitable. He was going to have to die, and he should probably do it, soon.
"No time like the present," he said aloud in his native tongue to no one in particular.
He thought out a plan for the next couple of hours. The easiest thing to do would be to kill the steward and the guards, take the guard's weapon and be done with the matter. But that seemed a little untoward. The steward had been bringing him all sorts of alcoholic beverages to try, including the sake Hoshi had recommended. Killing the guards wouldn't bother him so much, but that might upset his sister. He wouldn't want to cause her any trouble. They were family, after all.
So, he formulated a more complicated but still possibly quite effective plan. He waited patiently for the steward to arrive with his afternoon meal. As the man was setting out the plate, Enme grabbed him from behind and cut off his oxygen supply. Moments later, the man collapsed to the floor, unconscious but alive. Enme quickly switched uniforms with him, grateful that the steward was also tall, and then opened the door. He punched one guard and quickly tripped the other. He grabbed a phase pistol and stunned both of them. It wasn't exactly easy, but it wasn't hard either. He was, after all, a highly trained military man with plenty of hand-to-hand combat experience.
Enme assumed that the station's sensors would detect the phaser fire so he moved quickly, but not so quickly that he would arouse the suspicions of the humans he passed in the hallway. For all they knew, he was a Vulcan in a Starfleet uniform, just like his sister.
He kept reminding himself not to smile.
Enme looked down at the weapon in his hand, and he realized he had no idea how to turn it from stun to kill.
That's damn inconvenient, he thought, recognizing he'd look very foolish if he just managed to stun himself.
He knew there had to be an airlock or an incinerator or even a steep drop somewhere around here. He jumped in a turbolift and hit a button that didn't appear to be a main floor. He got out and headed down the hall. He turned a corner. Down the hall he saw a familiar figure, though she wasn't facing him.
He approached quickly.
"Hoshi?" he said.
She turned to look at him.
"What are you doing?" she said.
"I require your assistance, but don't worry this is set to stun. Still, I'm going to ask you to help me find an airlock or something."
"That's insane. This is the Sol system… you won't be able to get anywhere-"
"I'm not planning on going far," he said grimly.
She was puzzled for a moment, and then she appeared to understand. She had tried to do the same thing when held by the Xindi and had told him about it.
"I can't let you -"
"Hoshi," he said, "I saved your life. I rescued you. I'm not asking you to help me escape, just to help me become permanently useless to my captors."
She turned around to look behind her and then down the floor behind Enme.
"There's an airlock on this floor. It's used for maintenance. I'll show you," she said softly.
"Brilliant," said Enme.
Enme and Hoshi had just disappeared down an auxiliary corridor when Malcolm rushed from his quarters and headed toward the turbolift. The prisoner had, for reasons known only to himself, decided to escape his quarters. The two guards and the steward had been subdued, but they were all alive.
Malcolm briefly considered setting his phase pistol to kill, but then he remembered that wasn't policy. The man was a valuable asset, and every security officer on the station was looking for him. There wasn't, however, any kind of station wide alert since the prisoner's presence and identity were closely guarded secrets.
Malcolm's communicator chirped.
"We believe he's on your level, sir. And he may have a human hostage."
"Can you get me a location?"
"We're working on it, sir. The scanners on this station are pretty old."
Malcolm filed a note to himself in his head to request upgraded scanners for this station.
Trip stood on the sand, looking out at the Gulf of Mexico. Seagulls flew overhead, and a few people still sat on towels enjoying the beach, though it was a weekday and getting late. He kicked off his shoes and allowed the waves to wash over his feet. He looked back at T'Pol, who was not interested in doing the same.
"You know," he said, "This is the first time we've been on a real beach together. As opposed to an imaginary one. I'm glad Mom and Dad suggested we take a drive out here. It's not as pretty as Florida, but it'll do."
T'Pol inhaled the salt and seaweed smell of the beach, and she found it peculiar how much humans loved these places. Large bodies of water were associated with hurricanes and tsunamis and contained large predatory fish such as sharks. Vulcan had no such large oceans, and her people considered themselves lucky for it.
"It feels good, I promise," he said.
T'Pol decided to humor him, and she took off her shoes and joined him. The sun was setting in the west, and the sky had turned pink.
"If it weren't for the water and humidity," she said, "I'd say the sky looks somewhat Vulcan."
The water washed over her small feet, which were squished in the sand.
"The wet sand is good for your feet, you know," he said.
"It feels—pleasant," she replied, her hands behind her back.
"Maybe before we leave for Ireland, I'll convince you to go for a swim. It's not like the sharks will get you. They only sniff out iron blood."
She locked eyes with him, impressed at how adept he had become at reading her thoughts.
1 I love you.
2 I know what I said.
